


Meeting Once Again Among the Stars

by BlushingRojas



Series: Timeless Love [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dreams that show you memories, Lance and Matt are too sweet, Lance feels guilty for Patroclus' death, Lance is Achilles, Lance reads the Iliad to his friends, M/M, Matt is Patroclus, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingRojas/pseuds/BlushingRojas
Summary: In which Lance dreams of another life and a love so intense he can't forget. He dreams of heroes of old and their love for one another. Insatiable, young, andpassionate. As the months progress, the dreams become even more vivid and real. With it came a revelation: Lance had once been Achilles and his lover Patroclus was out there somewhere among the stars, as Matthew Holt.





	Meeting Once Again Among the Stars

For Lance, the dreams of what he could consider his “past” life started a month after the launch of Kerberos. The dreams had been fickle at first, escaping past the clutches of his mind when he’d wake, like sand slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t grasp it, and it had been a very frustrating experience for the first few months. At first, he could remember the feel of lingering lips on his alongside a sense of yearning. Then, Lance started to remember brown eyes and a brilliant smile that enraptured his heart and made it leap with joy. He’d remember the feeling of rushing and wandering hands, groping and pressing with a need, with insatiable _love_ and _passion_. Many nights Lance found himself hot, feeling the phantom hands on his body and soft lips glossing over his own as he’d whisper repeatedly: _Αγάπη μου._

_My heart. My love._

The language, foreign to Lance’s tongue yet familiar, was like welcoming an old friend back into his life. After the revelation, after knowing deep down that the familiarly foreign language had been Greek, Lance set out to find something written in the language the following day of his dream. He found the Iliad in the Galaxy Garrison’s Library, surprisingly it  _ had  _ been in Greek, and not in English. He checked it out, much to the suspicion of the old hunched librarian, and set out to read it as soon as he arrived at his room. It hadn’t been much of a shock to find himself reading it fluently, as if he had been born Greek himself instead of Cuban, but the shock came to a few words into the book.

Ἀχιλλεύς _ ;  _ Achilleus _ ; Achilles. _

It struck a chord in Lance, a familiarity he couldn’t shake despite wanting to. It was as if his mother was calling his name, welcoming him back home after being gone for so long. Lance set the book down after a few sentences and went about his day, trying to shake the feeling of restlessness he had gotten from the name of the Greek hero. His day had passed achingly slow, and Lance started to regret leaving the Iliad back in his room. By the time his classes were finished and dinner was about to start Lance made a pit-stop to his and Hunk’s room, waving off his friend’s worry with a finger guns before stumbling back to his room. There, in the dead center of his bed, was the Iliad where he had left it in his hurry to get to class. Lance tenderly grasped it, bringing it to his chest and breathing in deeply. The thick book held many answers to Lance’s questions, he just knew it. It was the key to unraveling the mysteries of his dreams, of what they meant, of what  _ had been _ .

Lance made his way down to the mess hall after securing the Iliad ( _ Ἰλιάς,  _ his mind supplied) in his Garrison commissioned satchel. He took a few seconds by the doors of the mess hall, trying to find Hunk, his longtime Garrison friend, and spotted him a few seconds later as Hunk waved him over. Lance smiled and sidestepped many of his classmates to reach Hunk. Once he made it to the table where Hunk had secured a set for him across from the Samoan and gotten him food to boot. 

“Thanks, man,” said Lance, smiling at Hunk with appreciation. “You didn’t have to.”

Hunk shrugged unabashedly, “You know how the lines get.”

“Yeah,” laughed Lance, remembering the stampede of students during his first year at the Garrison as they elbowed their way into the line shamelessly. From then on out Lance and Hunk had teamed up to arrive at the mess hall as fast as they were able to avoid most of the elbowing and trampling from their other schoolmates. Hunk had grown quite a lot since their first year, and though usually a kind giant, Hunk set his foot down when it came to making sure they both ate, so most gave him a wide berth. Hunk put up with no bullshit from their schoolmates and they knew it. “True.”

“So,” started Hunk as Lance tentatively prodded at his food with his fork. He was itching to read the Iliad but he knew Hunk would throw a fit if Lance didn’t eat at least half of his meal. So, Lance stabbed his fork into his pulled pork and brought it to his mouth, chewing it slowly. “What did you need to get from our room?”

Lance swallowed, smiling at his friend he answered honestly, “I had to get a book.” At Hunk’s dubious countenance, Lance rolled his eyes, set his fork down and dug through his satchel. He brought the Iliad out and presented it to Hunk with a flourish. “See! I told you, I had to get a book.”

“What’s this?” asked Hunk as he grabbed the Iliad, skimming and flipping through the pages of the Iliad, bringing it close to his eyes as if he could miraculously understand it if he brought the book closer to his brain, he stared and kept flipping through the pages for some minutes. Lance allowed him that as he ate. “Is this  _ Greek _ ?”

“It’s the Iliad, and yeah, it’s Greek,” answered Lance flippantly, shoving a forkful of pulled pork into his mouth.

“You can  _ understand  _ this?”

Lance scoffed and crossed his arms, “No, Hunk, I totally did not get a book that I couldn’t understand just for the heck of it.”

“But can you?”

“Yes,” admitted Lance before making grabby hands for the book. “Now, come on, give it back,  _ please _ .” Lance would never say it aloud, but he was quite protective of the book for some reason.

Hunk handed it back without a fight and Lance opened it back to the first page, pushing his food tray back and out of the way. Hunk grumbled but took notice that Lance had at least ate a little over a half of his food while he had been occupied with the strange book. Lance smiled pleasantly as he slowly read the book, taking in every word. Eventually, James Griffin from the fighter class sat beside his friend Rizavi, and that seat just so happened to be next to Lance.

The guy wasn’t bad, he just made Lance envious that he was in the fighter class and that Lance was not. James Griffin reminded Lance that he was just a cargo pilot, and if Iverson had any say in it, he would only  _ ever  _ be a cargo pilot. 

“Okay but I’m curious now, Lance you gotta read aloud for me.” Hunk said, bouncing in his chair with excitement. Chatter at their table stopped as Lance looked up to Hunk with a confused set of his brows. “Don’t act dumb, please just read me a line of the Iliad in Greek, it just sounds so cool!”

“You know Greek?” James asked. 

“You do?” Rizavi looked excited, and she leaned into James’ personal space to peer at Lance’s book, to confirm that, yes, it was Greek. Her jaw dropped, “Seriously?”

Kinkade spoke up, “I find that hard to believe.” Oof, well,  _ harsh _ .

“Uh,” Lance made a motion to close the book but Hunk slapped his hand on the pages before he could. He looked at his best friend and nope, that had been a mistake. Hunk was giving him the best impression he could of his puppy dog eyes. It got Lance. Every. Single. Fucking. Time. Lance peered around at the students sitting at the table and couldn’t help but notice that they were all looking at him expectantly. There were several girls too, and normally Lance would have flourished at the chance to show off and be the center of attention if only to impress the cute girls, but ever since his dreams had started he couldn’t help but feel as if his heart belonged to another. He swallowed, his tongue feeling dry, but he gave them all a smile. “I mean, I guess I could try.”

Hunk whooped and Rizavi looked at him with stars in her eyes. Distantly, Lance could recall overhearing how she and her family had gone to Greece for a few days during the holidays and how she had fallen in love with everything Greek. The language, the culture, the cuisine,  _ anything _ . Lance could agree, Greece was pretty awesome. But, Lance furrowed his brows, he had never been to Greece, or had he? But he could recall with clarity the smell of sweat and metal of the training ground, the taste of fine wine and thousands of whispers following his every move. He could remember the sun relentlessly pressing at him during the dog days of summer as he’d trained. A familiar laughter, brilliant lips stretching upwards and showing off equally brilliant teeth. 

“Well?” James edged on with a hint of exuberance, breaking Lance of his non-memories, (or were they memories?) “Go on, read.”

“Alright, alright, fine.” Lance placated. He distantly remembers reading Greek aloud to his teacher? Mentor? He remembers reading aloud to  _ someone  _ who overlooked his studies back with the Myrmidons. Lance blinked and filed that information back for later. He takes a steadying breath and reads the first few lines of the Iliad once again, he only slightly hesitates at  _ Achilles _ before moving on. There was something nagging at the back of his head that he would delve into later, but right now he had an audience he would not disappoint.

He trailed off once he looked up from the Iliad, and with a start noticed that he had gathered a much larger audience than just his table. For once, the mess hall wasn’t buzzing with noise but rather hushed. “What?” asked Lance nervously.

“Lance,” Hunk trailed off, “I don’t know how to tell you this… But that was amazing!”

“Huh?”

“Yeah!” Rizavi piped in, standing from her chair to stand behind Lance and peer over his shoulder and look at his book. “You sounded like a native!”

“How long have you been able to speak Greek?” asked James, leaning over as well and furrowing his brows. “This looks convoluted and difficult to read.”

_ I’ve only been able to understand Greek since last night’s dream,  _ Lance had wanted to say. Instead what came out of his mouth was, “I’ve always been able to understand Greek.”

_ That’s a lie. _

_ Or is it? Father always made sure I was educated. _

_ But Papa only ever made sure I understood English alongside Spanish. _

_ And Peleus made sure I was fluent in Greek at an early age. _

All of this made Lance’s head spin and it took all of his willpower not to clutch his head like some lunatic. Especially with him being the center of attention at the moment.

“This is a nice surprise,” Kinkade inclined his head in Lance’s direction. Lance smiled and closed the book, placing it back into his satchel.

“Wait, aren’t you going to read some more?” asked Hunk pleadingly. Rizavi agreed with him as well, and soon most of the table and some others standing around him were voicing their want for him to continue the reading.

“Sorry guys,” apologized Lance, giving them a ‘what-can-you-do?’ smile as he stood up, “but I’m whopped. Maybe some other time?”

There were various nods and several “you better,” thrown his way before the crowd dispersed.

“Ready to hit the hay, Lance?” asked Hunk, and Lance nodded, picked up his tray and discarded it. They both steadily made their way to their room and, after both showering and Lance going through his nightly skincare routine, headed to bed. A week passed and Lance started a routine. He’d go to classes, read the Iliad when the professors weren’t looking and made sure to work on his homework. During dinner he’d bring the Iliad and read it aloud to his growing audience, a chapter per day, once in Greek and another in English, translating on the go, needless to say, it took most of his dinner time, not that Lance minded. He read Greek during lunch and translated during dinner. Hunk always made sure he ate his share before starting on his readings, knowing that Lance could get ahead of himself and forget to eat. There was always a name Lance would stutter at, heart leaping to his throat and constricting it. But he’d move on with a grandeur that made no one take notice of his missteps. 

It wasn’t long that Lance woke up sometime later early Monday morning, face flushed and heart pounding. A ghost hand carded its way through his hair with loving care and another was placed on his cheek, thumb moving against his eyelid softly. Lance breathed out and soon the hands faded back and he could no longer feel them. From his dream, however, came a name that stuck this time.

Πάτροκλος; Pátroklos _;_ _Patroclus_.

And soon it was as if a dam had been cracked and the water, the memories, dripped out little by little.

Those calloused hands belonged to Patroclus. The brown eyes, the tender kisses and lingering touches, it had all been  _ Patroclus _ . Gods, what a mess.

But still, Lance (Achilles?) pulled his knees to his chest and placed his forehead between his knees. He kneaded his left heel with a wince, the memories of his past life slowly coming back to him. His love, his Patroclus had died due to his pride. Lance would admit that as Achilles he had been spoiled, had always gotten what he wanted and when he wanted it. He took Patroclus for granted most of the time and yet— 

Lance sniffed, being careful to not wake up his roommate with his sudden swirling emotions.

— and yet, Patroclus still loved him.  _ Had  _ loved him with all of his heart and had paid the price due to Achilles’ own pride and hubris. It had taken death to part them, and death for Achilles to realize the true extent of his feelings. How Patroclus had carved a special hole into Achilles’ heart that could only fit his longtime lover. Who he had died.  _ All because of Achilles’ fucking hubris.  _ Don’t get Lance wrong, he could remember avenging his lover by killing Hector, and if that doesn’t bring back a sense of grim satisfaction then Lance (Achilles?) doesn’t know what would. He could vividly remember him dragging Hector’s corpse around the walls of Troy, and it brings him nothing other than vindictive pleasure than thinking about it. 

Lance could care less that Paris killed him with a poisoned arrow to the heel, or that Apollo had guided the arrow. The arrow meant death and that lead to reuniting with his lover. Lance furrows his brows. He clearly remembers Patroclus’ outstretched hand as he laid dying, his brown eyes still full of compassion and love for him. He remembers reaching out and grasping his lover’s hand with his own, remembers feeling weightless and then pulling Patroclus tightly into his arms.

“Let’s go,” Patroclus had whispered, pulling himself from Achilles’ embrace and bringing Achilles into a searing kiss. “Our next adventure awaits, my warrior.”

“Yes,” he had said dazedly, never once looking back as they made their way to the light. “As long as you are with me, I shall be strong.”

“I do not doubt it,  _ αγάπη _ μου.”

Lance choked back a sob. Where was Patroclus? Where was his heart?

It wasn’t fair!

When Hunk finally awoke, the first thing he did was pull Lance into a hug. He asked what was wrong, and Lance answered with the simple excuse of, “I’m just homesick.”

He wasn’t homesick.

He was missing his heart, the love of his petty existence. How could you possibly explain to your friend that you yearn for someone that was only a myth in an epic poem? That he was your lover, your anchor, and that you carried the weight of his death on your shoulders? The guilt was horrid enough as it stood.

So Lance put himself back together and faked it for the following weeks. He attended all his classes and still read the Iliad to his audience during dinner, ignoring how his voice would waver when he’d read Patroclus’ name out loud. Much to Hunk’s displeasure, Lance barely put a dent in his food before he started reading. It took the better part of the month for him to read the entirety of the book, but eventually, he managed to turn the last page of the Iliad and, with a flourish and a dramatic pause, deliver the last sentence. He had to refrain from snarling at it; he would always detest Hector.

“That’s it?” asked Rizavi when Lance closed the book during dinner. “Oh, come one, there has to be more!”

Lance raised a brow, “That’s it for the Iliad.”

“What about Achilles?”

“What about him?” asks Lance, feeling weird about referring to himself (past self, self, it was whatever at this point) in the third person.

“He and Patroclus, weren’t they a thing?” There were murmurs of agreement. And Lance wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t make his heart flutter, because if it was something Homer did in the Iliad, it downplayed his and Patroclus’ relationship.

Lance swallows, “Some say they were, and some just say they were good friends.”

“I like to think they were together,” added Hunk. Lance looked at him, smiling. “I mean, it’s kinda romantic, love in the battlefield!”

Lance grinned shakily. “Yeah, you’re right, Hunk. It  _ is  _ kinda romantic.”

“What happened to Achilles afterward?” queried James, leaning towards Lance.

Lance rubbed his left heel against the leg of the table, withholding a wince at the reminder “He died by an arrow to the heel, shot by Paris. Some say Achilles was invincible, and that the only way to injure or kill him was at his heel, or he just could have been that good in combat, who knows? It’s also said that the sun god Apollo guided Paris to shoot the poisoned arrow at Achilles’ heel, killing him.”

Most of the people surrounding Lance suddenly looked glum. James shifted and Rizavi placed her hands on Lance’s shoulders. He turned to look at her and she gave him a wide smile, teeth and all. “I just wanted to say, thank you, Lance, for taking the time to read to all of us. I never thought anyone would like to listen to the Iliad but yet here we are! Everyone, give Lance a round of applause for keeping us entertained!”

Lance was overwhelmed as the majority of his schoolmates applauded him, but soon that applause died down as the TVs of the mess hall sputtered awake and showed them the news. The Kerberos Crew was presumed dead. Pilot error, they said. But Lance couldn’t help but tune it out and stare at Matthew Holt’s picture. Those eyes, he’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

They were the eyes of his love, of his heart.  _ Patroclus _ . Gods be damned, Lance wanted to scream, to yell, to curse at the Fates, for would they be so cruel to rip his love from his arms once again?

Lance couldn’t stay in the mess hall any longer, he bolted from his seat and ran. 

Not a month later, Keith Kogane was kicked out of the Garrison and a new cadet, Pidge Gunderson, joined Lance’s team. Pidge was an… odd one. Lance would refer to Pidge as they and them, because he and him just didn’t feel right and Lance did not want to outwardly ask what their pronouns were. So, for now, they and them would do.

Lance kept dreaming of his past life, of the stolen moments he and Patroclus had during their tutelage under Chiron, of their kisses, of their nights spent in tandem with one another, like two halves to a whole. How Patroclus would absentmindedly card his fingers through Achilles’ blonde hair, how Achilles would desperately run his fingers in every crevice and dip of Patroclus’ lean muscles.

And it was gone. All gone and he could never get it back. Gods be damned, Fates be cursed. 

And then Shiro crashed near the Garrison and Hunk, Pidge and he went to investigate, already having been on the roof of the facility when it happened. They managed to free Shiro with Keith’s help. The next thing Lance knows was that he’s piloting a sentient Blue lion and that they wormhole their way in space. They find two Alteans, one who is a princess that Lance’s first response had been to flirt to, and then they become the Defenders of the Universe by forming Voltron with the other four lions. Pidge comes out as a girl and they start getting the hang of things.

Many months had passed since they had become a team, and they were only getting stronger each day. They landed a critical blow to the Galra only for Shiro to pull a disappearing act soon after Zarkon’s defeat. They spent weeks looking for him, and Keith had taken the helm during that time. They encountered Lotor, fought Lotor, got their ass handed to them, and then they found Shiro by pure chance. 

Pidge returned from her solo mission one day as the Paladins are sorting through a new patch of refugees. Lance sincerely hoped she succeeded in finding her brother, for each time she came back empty-handed, it broke both their hearts a little more.

“Hey, Pidge is back!” Hunk pointed out as they watched the Green Lion land. 

Lance was nervous, but he stood in front of the Green Lion with everybody else as they wait with smiles to greet the youngest Paladin. The mice scramble to meet her, and Pidge kneeled with a chuckle.

Lance breath hitched at the back of his throat as he saw long legs appear behind their friend.

“Hey, everybody,” Pidge smiled at them and stood up, gesturing to her brother with her free hand that does not have one of the mice on it. “This is my brother, Matt.”

Matt grinned at them, and it took Lance everything he had to keep from tearing up. “Hey, everybody.”

Pidge introduced them, “Matt, this is Hunk, Lance, and Coran.” Lance leans a bit more heavily against Hunk after Matt showed no recognition of Lance, of  _ Achilles _ . Does Patroclus,  _ no _ , does  _ Matt  _ not remember? Or was Lance just simply wrong?

_ But I know those eyes anywhere, by the Gods his smile is still the same. _

But when Matt was introduced to Allura, Lance’s heart broke, he couldn’t take it. He turned heel and marched his way back to the castle. The next few days had Lance training with the Gladiator bot, his skills as Lance already up to par to what they had been when he had been Achilles. Overall it had been peaceful with few distress signals sent their way. Lance avoided Matt like the plague, and the only room he couldn’t avoid him at was the kitchen, seeing as Hunk would have his hide should he skip a meal. Lance allowed himself to relax a week into Matt’s integration to the castle, but still spent the majority of his time getting his swordwork back up to par to what it had once been.

“Lance?” Shiro walked into the training room as he shot the Gladiator in the crook between its neck and chest, having changed his bayard to be riffle as soon as he had heard the doors sliding open. He didn’t want anyone to know about his new (old?) skills. Lance lowered his bayard from his position.

“Yeah?” asked Lance, allowing his bayard to drop its form.

“We’re having a team meeting at the bridge.” Oh no, it was the ‘no-nonsense’ voice. Well, Gods be damned.

“When?” asked Lance cautiously.

“Now,” said Shiro curtly. Lance withheld a groan and followed the Black Paladin through the winding hallways of the castle and up to the bridge. When the doors to the bridge hissed open, Lance withheld another groan, because there, standing beside his sister, was Matt. It seemed that all eyes had been drawn to the two Paladins entering the bridge, and Lance severely wanted to ram his head into the wall with all the disappointed and judging glances most of his teammates were throwing at him.

“Hey, guys,” Lance gave a little wave, but Allura merely crossed her arms and gave him the unimpressed brow raise, jutting her hip out a little.

“Lance,” greeted Allura at last.

Lance slumped his shoulders and run his fingers through his hair, a tick he had acquired after remembering that Patroclus would comb his fingers through Achilles’ hair to calm him down when they used to be alone, in their few stolen moments. “Did I do something I shouldn’t have?”

It was Pidge who spoke up next, surprisingly. Lance wasn’t as oblivious as he once must have been, seeing as he can clearly pick up on ill-contained anger in her voice even without the crude wording. “The fuck, Lance? I just got my brother back and you’re giving him the cold shoulder for no apparent fucking reason?”

Ah. Well, shit.

“Pidge,” started Matt, “I told you already that it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” screamed Pidge, frustration lacing her voice as she stood from her chair. “He has no right to treat you like your barely worth the gum stuck underneath his boot!”

“Come on, guys,” pacified Hunk, holding his arms out as if he were approaching a wild animal. “Let’s handle this like responsible adults.”

“Good thing I’m not an adult, then!” sneered Pidge before forming her bayard, she made a motion to attack Lance but Shiro got in her way and Matt held her back. 

“ _ ENOUGH! _ ” ordered Shiro, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We all agreed to have Lance tell us why he’s been so…  _ hostile _ to Matt, and he can’t do that if we’re all arguing and fighting like children.”

“I agree with Shiro,” Allura, ever the diplomat agreed. “We must have clear heads on our shoulders if we wish to proceed.”

“If I let go,” said Matt to Pidge, “will you settle down?”

Pidge grumbled but complied, nodding her head.

“Lance,” shit, Allura was using  _ that  _ voice. “Care to explain what’s been going on for the past week? We cannot have a Paladin of Voltron acting to  _ cold  _ and  _ callous  _ towards a family member of one of our own.”

“You’d think me a liar,” his princely side came forward, well versed in standing his ground with the higher-ups. He straightened up and squared his shoulders. Lance was more comfortable with his warrior side, for all that included was ‘stab now, ask questions later,’ rather than his princely side, a stiff side if he had to say so himself. 

“Try us,” said Matt, though not unkindly. Lance withheld his need to hold the brown-eyed man in his arms, to comfort him and to apologize profusely for his indifferent attitude towards him. But he couldn’t, because Matt didn’t remember and Patroclus was nothing more other than a tender memory in Lances and Achilles’ memories.

Lance swallowed heavily, suddenly aware just how outnumbered he was. He couldn’t get out of this situation even if he wanted to. The once Prince of the Myrmidons squared his shoulders and looked at his teammates in the eye. “The Fates are cruel,” he voice was cold, a hardened edge, “they ripped me from the person I loved more than anything in this universe before I even had the chance to truly appreciate him. He was my light in this never-ending darkness, and they took my light from me. He was my anchor that kept me from straying too far from my goals, and I  _ fucking  _ lost him. I didn’t show him the love he deserved, and only when he died did I realize what a fool I had been.”

“I don’t see how any of this has to do with you giving my brother the cold shoulder,” said Pidge, still angry at Lance, “it sounds like you’re just making up excuses at this point.”

Lance bristled, ready to draw his bayard to defend his honor before realizing that his  _ honor  _ had been the thing to get Patroclus killed in the first place. What a glum revelation, one he had already spent countless hours in the fiery pits of guilt in.

“I have to agree with Pidge here,” Hunk said, and Lance couldn’t muster up the energy to look at his friend. Couldn’t muster up the energy to feel just a bit betrayed. “Like, I’m sorry your love? Right? Died, but what does that have to do with Matt?”

“He looks like him,” whispered Lance brokenly, his voice cracking. There was a hushed ‘ _ what? _ ’ from Pidge that sliced through the thick atmosphere at Lance’s admittance. “Gods be damned, he looks  _ just like him  _ and it fucking hurts.”

“Who’s he?” queried Allura softly, never having seen Lance in such a vulnerable state. Matt stood still, eyes narrowed and his gaze piercing into Lance’s very soul.

“Lance,” Matt approached him slowly, “what was his name?”

“It was,” Lance licked his lips, feeling the lump going up his throat. “Patroclus,” he said finally, croaking it out. “His name was Patroclus.”

Soon there are hands on his cheeks, pulling him in until a forehead touched his. He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath at the familiar action, at the intimate action that Achilles and Patroclus used to indulge in the clearings during their years training with Chiron. “Achilles,” Matt’s voice trembled. “Oh Gods,  _ Achilles _ .”

“Patroclus,” Lance wept before bringing Matt? Patroclus? it didn’t matter, into a searing kiss. It was as if they were young again and only just finding their love for one another. Only just finding their blooming bud of something more. Matt pulled away from their kiss to pepper Lance’s face with kisses, laughing joyously and wrapping his arms around Lance’s waist and spinning them around. Lance laughed into the crook of Matt’s neck, too overjoyed to remember that they had an audience.

Matt stopped spinning and stared lovingly into Lance’s blue eyes. “You may not have fair skin, and you may not have blond hair, but you still have the same beautiful eyes.”

“Matt,  _ Patroclus _ ,” Lance closed his eyes and knocked their foreheads together, “ _ αγάπη _ μου.”

“I’ve been blind,” Matt confessed, kissing the corner of Lance’s lips, “I thought I was alone, that I would never find you, yet here you are, once a warrior, always a warrior, huh?”

“I was a fool,” started Lance, “I allowed my pride and hubris to get the best of me, and it led to your death. I cannot apologize enough.”

“There is no reason to apologize,” Matt gave him a chaste kiss, “you fool, don’t apologize.”

“I—” Matt bumped their heads together in warning and Lance’s apology died at his tongue.

“What,” Lance and Matt turned to the rest of the team, staring at them dumbfounded, none more so than Pidge. She looked quite lost, floundering at the sudden turn of events. “What…  _ just happened _ .”

“Guys,” said Matt with a brilliant smile, pulling Lance to his chest and wrapping his arms around his waist. Lance melted at the familiar hold with a smile. Matt kissed Lance’s exposed neck and propped his chin on Lance’s shoulder. “This is Lance, also once known as Achilles, prince of the Myrmidons, and the love of my life.”


End file.
